Jihad

CHAPTER 155

The light pounded through his skull, pushing its way past his heading, pushing and diving into his skull, pounding him.

“Oh, thank God. I was beginning to worry that you’d never wake up.”

Dabir started to rise but the pain pushed him back down.

“Where am I?”

“St. Theresa’s,” said a woman’s voice on the far side of the room.

“I found you on the steps when I went down for breakfast. You seem to have passed out,” said another voice. It seemed familiar. “Are you okay?”

“Li?”

“Yes. Listen. The plane for Boston leaves in an hour. Um, I hate to leave you here, but I kind of have to make it. I’m late already. Is there anyone you want me to call?”

“No. I–I have to make the plane.” Dabir started to get up.

A woman in a white dress — a nun or a nurse, he couldn’t tell which — came to his side. “Are you sure you’re okay to leave?”

“What happened to me?”

“You bashed the back of your head on some steps. We took X-rays. They’re negative. You don’t have a concussion, but I would imagine it hurts a great deal.”

That much was true. Dabir touched the back of his head gingerly.

“There was’a small cut and some abrasions. We cut off some of your hair to clean it. I think it will heal fine,” added the nurse. “You didn’t even need stitches.”

“That’s all that’s wrong with me?”

“Yes.”

“I have to go.” Dabir placed his feet on the floor. His head hurt, but he wasn’t dizzy.

“You should leave the bandage on for a few days,” said the nurse.

“Are you going to try and make the plane?” asked Li.

“Can we?”

“If we hurry. I’ll call a taxi.”

Dabir gazed at her as she left the room. She had a small, compact body — an attractive one. Had circumstances only been different, he might have found it too tempting to resist…